


Teeth

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Itey stands up for Snitch.





	Teeth

Snitch gave Itey English lessons every day. He wrote down the words carefully in a notebook that he’d bought for five cents. Itey couldn’t read, but he had neither the heart nor the words to tell Snitch, especially not when Snitch wrote and rewrote each word carefully, chewing on the pencil and deliberating over his spelling. He drew pictures to illustrate them - cheerful stick men, or sad stick men, or stick men holding newspapers, and even crude images of the other boys with names beside them.

Even without reading the letters, Itey got on pretty well. He’d been in America for two weeks, and he knew more than one hundred words, which he recited and counted to himself when he was trying to fall asleep, or when he woke up with nightmares about his journey across the ocean. He could say good morning and good night to Blink, Boots, Crutchy, Racetrack, and Mush every day. Thank you was a good word, because it was the easiest way to show others that he thought kindly of them and wanted to make friends. Extrey Extrey was practically magic, if he hollered it at the top of his lungs and without any inhibitions. It is a great calamity meant that something was very bad, and was excellent for selling papes, but Itey often stumbled over the phrase, and Snitch would only allow it on some days, with strict orders about which pages Itey should point to as he said the words.

Itey’s favorite words were things like “yes”, “no”, and “stop”. They made him feel like he had some control over his life. At dinner, when Snipeshooter tried to swipe scraps off his plate, he could tell him to stop, and then he always did. He’d offered half an apple to Boots the other day just by smiling, holding out his hands, and saying “yes” in his most encouraging voice.

“Stop”, Itey noticed, was something that Snitch said to the other boys all the time.

Even without knowing the fluid, rapid-fire English that the boys spoke amongst themselves, Itey could see and observe. Sometimes it started with a cigarette in the bathroom, and other times it started with a bottle of liquor being passed around the lodging house, or somebody stumbling in drunk, or looking at a magazine with pictures of women in it. Snitch would bite his lip and watch for a moment or two. He’d frown, then suddenly straighten up, square his shoulders, and walk over to the offender and say many many words to him, all of which boiled down to an order to stop. Nobody ever stopped. Sometimes Snitch told Mr. Kloppman, and then everyone was mad at him.

Snitch had a big mouth. That’s how the other kids put it. He had big teeth too. They were long and white. They were straight. Itey thought Snitch had nice teeth, but whenever Snitch did something to anger the other boys, it was his teeth that they started shouting about. Sometimes Snitch didn’t even have to do anything.

On Friday night, Itey noticed for the first time, that Snitch held his hand in front of his mouth when he talked during their lesson. Sometimes he looked away. It was hard to follow. Itey had to strain to listen to what Snitch was saying. He took Snitch’s wrist to move it away from his mouth.

“No,” Itey tried to explain. Snitch scowled at him, and flopped back on the bed with an abruptness that Itey hadn’t expected. The lesson was over.

On Saturday and Sunday Snitch held his hand in front of his mouth during their lessons again, and Itey didn’t try to stop him.

The next morning on the way to the distribution center two of the bigger guys shoved against Snitch so hard that he stumbled. The sniggered, and curled up their lips so that they looked like deranged rabbits, and then they were on their way before Itey could even glare at them.

Itey tried to gather up something to say. He’d been eloquent once. His mama had said that he, out of all of her children, could talk the sun down from the sky if he wanted to. He’d talked his uncle into taking him along on the ship to America, without stopping to think how the language barrier would change everything. Now Snitch was frowning and tense, hand in front of his mouth, and Itey had so few words at his disposal and so little idea of how to use them.

“They…” Itey said slowly, trying to string the sentence together. Already Snitch was launching into to a rant, an explanation that Itey couldn’t begin to make out.

“They,” Itey said again, and this time Snitch went quiet to see what he wanted to say. “They… no.” Itey pointed after them. “The great calamity is they,” he said with conviction.

Snitch looked at Itey, then barked out a short, surprised laugh. Itey could feel himself going red.

“That’s good,” Snitch hastened to tell him. “Real good, Itey. You’re… You’re good. You’re a pal. Pal - That means you’re good and I likes you a lot. Thank you.”


End file.
